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I am in her room, on my back, on her bed, in the dark,
“Now, she says, you must love me.” For real and forever. I will be your mistress, and you partner, and you lover, we will live out everyone of your fantasies and everyone of mine, and someday soon, I will engineer a way for you to be mine and mine alone. Do you understand?
Yes, I say.
I will keep you for a very only time. Do you understand, no getting away, no changing your mind.
She unbuttons his blue jeans and removes his grey T-shirt, and lies beside him and pulls,his arms over his head then she turns him over and begins to undress and lie down beside me.
It seems that the lights in the red room have been dimmed, and the sole illumination comes from the candle, which burns with a bright flame.
I am gasping now. Make love with me, please makes love with me.
“Okay, hon,” she says. “We’ll do it. But will you do something for me, while you’re doing it?
She straddles him, in one smooth movement, whispering, , “Honey, while you are inside m will you worship me?
“Will I what?”
She is rocking back and forth on him: the engorged head of his penis is being rubbed against the wet lips of her vulva.
“Will you call me goddess? Will you pray to me? Will you worship me with your body?
"Yes,” he says. She reaches her hand between her legs and slips him inside her. .
“Worship me, honey,”
“Yes,” he says. “I worship your breasts and your hair and your cunt. I worship your thighs and your eyes and your cherry-red lips…”
“Yes…” she croons, riding him.
“I worship your nipples, from which the milk of life flows. Your kiss is honey and your touch scorches like fire, and I worship it.” My words are becoming more rhythmic now, keeping pace with the thrust and roll of their bodies. “Bring me your lust in the morning, and bring me relief and your blessing in the evening. Let me walk in dark places unharmed and let me come to you once more and sleep beside you and make love with you again. I worship you with everything that is within me, and everything inside my mind, with everywhere I’ve been and my dreams and my…” I break off, panting for breath. “What are you doing? Amazing. So amazing…” and he looks down at his hips, at the place where the two of them conjoin, but her forefinger touches his chin and pushes his head back, so he is looking only at her face and at the ceiling once again.
“Keep talking, honey,” she says. “Don’t stop. Doesn’t it feel good?” Will you tell your wife you want her to have sex with other men? Will let me arrange it and find her the perfect partner, someone she will fall in love with. Will you do that for real?
Yes, Ann I promise.
If you refuse , I will tell her about us, I mean that. But if you do what I am asking, someday she will watch me spank you and you'll tell her you belong to me yourself.
You understand?
Ok honey...call me goddess
“Goddess, it feels better than anything has ever felt,” he tells her, meaning it as he says it. “Your eyes are stars, burning in the,, the firmament, and your lips are gentle waves that lick the sand, and I worship them,” and now he’s thrusting deeper and deeper insider her: he feels electric, as if his whole lower body has become sexually charged: priapic, engorged, blissful.
“I am your gift,”, no longer knowing what he is saying, “your one true gift, and make me always this…always so…I pray…I…”
And then the pleasure crests into orgasm, blasting his mind into void, his head and self and entire being a perfect blank as he thrusts deeper into her and deeper still…
Eyes closed, spasming, he luxuriates in the moment; and then he feels a lurch, and it seems to him that he is hanging, head down, although the pleasure continues.
I open my eyes. And think, grasping for thought and reason again, of birth, and wonders, without fear, in a moment of perfect postcoital clarity, whether what he sees is some kind of illusion.
This is what I sees:
I am inside her to the chest, and as he stares at this in disbelief and wonder she rests both hands upon his shoulders and puts gentle pressure on his body.
I lipslide further inside her.
“How are you doing this to me?” I ask, or i think,I asks, but perhaps it is only in my head.
“You’re doing it, honey,” she whispers. I feel the lips of her vulva tight around his upper chest and back, constricting and enveloping him. He wonders what this would look like to somebody watching them. He wonders why he is not scared. And then he knows.
“I worship you with my body,” he whispers, as she pushes him insider her. Her labia pull slickly across his face, and his eyes slip into darkness.
She stretches on the bed, like a huge cat, and then she yawns. “Yes,” she says. “You do.”
The next morning a small test strip ensures he is hers in more ways than one. She smiles and thinks, I hope he likes breast milk.
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